


Say You'll Remember Me

by songofthe52hertzwhale



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 11:50:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20191819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofthe52hertzwhale/pseuds/songofthe52hertzwhale
Summary: heaven can't help me nownothing lasts foreverbut this is gonna take me down





	Say You'll Remember Me

Sebastian knew, from the moment he set eyes on him, that Julian Larson was dangerous.

It’s an odd thought to have, staring up at someone with worry in their eyes, someone trying to  _ help _ , to rescue him from terrible drunken decisions. But as he hangs off the edge of the bridge, as he lets the other boy grab his hand, it’s all he can think.

Dangerous.

They sip coffee together, in those early hours of the morning, and Sebastian chooses to blame the liquor in his system for the way his stomach swoops at Julian’s smile. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t know where it would lead. They make promises, of course, that this won’t mean anything, that they’re both too broken and damaged and dangerous for anything more than fun. They swear they won’t touch, won’t kiss, won’t fall into bed the way they each have so many other times.

But god, from that very first smile, Sebastian  _ wants _ . 

Sebastian’s never had anyone who can keep up with him like this. Who can dance in nightclubs until the early hours of the morning, can shift straight to window-shopping and cafe-hopping without so much as a blink of sleep. He introduces Julian to  _ good _ coffee, to the decadence of Laduree macarons, to French wines and delicacies.

And Julian?

Julian introduces him to love.

He doesn’t verbalize it. He wouldn’t dare, after all the promises. He’s not sure he even realizes what it is, until after.

Perhaps it starts when Julian sees  _ that boy _ through the window. It’s nobody special, in Sebastian’s eyes, but he watches how Julian’s light up, how his smile brightens for just a moment before falling again, before a sadness Sebastian’s never known fills that beautiful face.

Suddenly, all he wants in the whole damn world is to make sure Julian never feels that sadness again.

He doesn’t ask about it.

He doesn’t have to.

Julian tells him that night, willingly, his head half-leaning against Sebastian’s shoulder and his fingers just brushing against Sebastian’s wrist. 

_ He doesn’t deserve you _ , Sebastian wants to say,  _ If he can’t see how perfect you are, he doesn’t deserve to even know you _ .

He almost kisses him that night.

Sometimes, he wonders if things might be different if he had.

When they sing together, it almost feels like the world makes sense. Julian smiles brightly, the stars in the sky shining in his eyes, and Sebastian can’t look away. They pull at each others hands, spin in circles, leap onto stone benches.

The locals applaud, when they’re done.

But Julian doesn’t soak up the attention. Instead, he laughs, turns to Sebastian, pulls him away and runs gleefully away from the crowds.

He’s never understood the bridge before. 

He isn’t quite the romantic type, has always rolled his eyes at the idea of locking a symbol of affection on an ugly bridge over a stinking river. 

But Julian has the idea, and suddenly it doesn’t sound so foolish.

_ Not for each other, obviously _ , Julian says,  _ but for hope, you know? That maybe one day we’ll figure it out. Both of us. _

_ For someday, _ Sebastian says, and Julian’s smile is blinding.

_ Yeah. For someday _ .

They scrawl their initials on separate locks, jostle each other as they hang the locks on the wires of the bridge.

(Later, much later, Sebastian will find his lock again, will hesitate just a moment before adding a small  _ JL _ beside his own initials.)

(He knows he’ll never want to add a lock with anyone else.)

They kiss.

It’s an accident.

Julian had saved him, really, from a man who thought too highly of himself. He’d swooped in before the man could touch Sebastian, had pushed his body between the bar and Sebastian’s own, wound his long arms around Sebastian’s neck and pressed their lips together.

_ Fireworks _ .

He’s never felt anything like this before, has never understood the butterfly metaphor until this moment. But suddenly Julian is all he knows, the soft feel of his lips and the sweet scent of his shampoo, the way his fingers twine in Sebastian’s hair.

_ God, is this going to hurt when it’s over _ .

They can’t stop, after.

They  _ try _ , the both of them, to pretend it doesn’t mean anything.

But they keep floating together, keep pressing and pulling and it  _ hurts _ every time Julian’s too far from him.

This isn’t love, he tells himself. He’s too young for that, too reckless and wild. But it’s  _ something _ , he thinks. Something close to it. Part of him wants to know what this could be, if it were real. If they were different people, if they’d met at a different time. If he was kinder, if Julian weren’t broken. 

But they aren’t those people.

They fall into bed together, when it’s too late. Julian’s leaving soon, and they shouldn’t do this, but Sebastian can’t help himself.

How can he not  _ touch _ , when they’re curled up together, with the soft moonlight casting a golden glow on Julian’s skin? How can he not  _ want _ , when Julian looks up at him with dark eyes and a soft smile?

(How can he not  _ love _ , when this beautiful boy makes him feel happiness he’s never imagined?)

He’s scared, even though he won’t admit it.

This was never meant to be  _ this _ .

It was fun, it was wild, it was  _ nothing _ .

Yet suddenly, it’s everything.

Julian gives him an out.

They talk, after, between, about their  _ deal _ , about their broken promises.

And they make another one.

Julian won’t wait, he knows. Julian’s in love with another boy, and Sebastian’s just the distraction. A fun distraction, he hopes, one Julian might look back on later and think of fondly.

He wants to be so much more than a fond memory.

They kiss goodbye in the morning, linger too long together.

Julian’s scent lingers even longer, vanilla and coffee and cherry catching with every breeze.

Sebastian should go home, really. He’s spent far too long running through the streets of Paris with a boy he barely knows, should go back to the life he had before, the life he  _ liked _ before.

But it isn’t what he wants, now.

He stops at the bridge, where they’d locked away their hope. He doesn’t look at his own lock, peers at Julian’s instead, at the  _ someday _ scrawled across the metal in loopy swirls.

_ Someday _ .

That’s what he wants.

He wants that hope, that fear, that confusing mix of emotions every time he sees a beautiful smile. He wants  _ Julian _ .

So he runs.

He knows, even as he’s making his way to the airport, that he’s late. There’s no possible way he’ll make it in time, even if Julian  _ is _ waiting for him. He’s too late, and this is over.

Still, he runs.

Julian’s flight had been scheduled to depart at five.

Sebastian reaches the airport at ten after.

By the time he finds Julian’s gate, the plane is long gone, the doors shut tight. His hand settles against the window, fingers pressed against the glass as he watches planes take off. He imagines one of them is Julian’s, that maybe the other boy will look through his own window, will see him waiting, will see that he  _ came _ .

Part of him, later, will wonder if it was intentional. If his subconscious kept him from leaving on time, if maybe he  _ wanted _ to miss the flight.

Because Julian deserves love. Deserves something stable and consistent, deserves someone who  _ wants _ to lock their names together forever. He deserves someone who wouldn’t dream of being late, who’d show up to the airport with a bag packed, who’d follow him across the world.

And Sebastian doesn’t know how to love that way.

He hopes, desperately, that he’d meant something to Julian, too. That Julian won’t forget him on that plane ride home, will remember  _ something _ good from their time together. 

Because he knows he’ll never forget it.


End file.
